Mike Whump
by TaliaFox
Summary: Basically, a series of one-shots about hurt!Mike. Involved will be shooting, stabbing, kidnapping, etc. Mainly will be Mike and Paul, but others will be included. NOT SLASH.
1. Shot

This is a series of one-shots about hurt!Mike. He will be shot, stabbed, and kidnapped. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

"This is the man?" a man asked, sizing up Mike, taking careful time looking at the black bag in his hand.

"This is him," Paul said, glancing between his protégé and the drug dealer they had to make a deal with.

It was supposed to be easy. Paul was supposed to be able to get in, get the drugs, and get out while the FBI came in, but the dealer wanted to meet the source of the drugs. Mike volunteered. Get in, sell the drugs, get busted.

Simple. Easy. Since when.

They made the deal, the dealer testing the product before handing over the bag of cash. Briggs and Warren checked for the cash before pretending to walk away, side by side.

They heard the FBI coming, yelling.

Briggs put his hands in the air, still facing his car.

Mike, on the other hand, turned around, ready to put the bag of money on the ground when he saw the dealer had a gun in his hand, pointing it at Briggs.

"Down!" Mike shouted, tackling his leader to the ground just as the gun went off, the shot echoing.

Mike and Briggs ended up sprawled on the dirt ground, the FBI closing in around them. The dealer was led away in cuffs.

"Wow. That was a close one, mi amigos," Johnny said, coming up to the men laying on the ground.

"Yeah, it was. You can get off now, Levi," Briggs said, stomach on the ground and a heavy weight he knew was his protégé on his back.

They waited a moment with no response.

"Hey, Levi, you okay?" Briggs asked, becoming slightly worried at the dead weight on his back and not being able to see anything.

"I got 'im," Johnny said, grabbing Mike under his arm and dragging him off of Briggs.

"Oh, no. This is bad," Johnny said when he started dragging, noticing the blood on the side of Mike's shirt.

As soon as he could move, Briggs quickly turned over, his question dying on his lips when he saw Mike.

"Get a bus," Briggs told the nearest agent, then turning his attention on his protégé.

"Lay him down, lay him down," was the order he heard coming off his lips next.

"Where was he hit?" Johnny asked as both he and Briggs quickly searched Mike's torso.

"Got it," Briggs said, finding one in his side.

 _He took that bullet for you._ A voice inside Briggs's head said.

Briggs quickly pushed that away. He would think about that later, now his focus needed to be on Levi…. Whose eyes are closed, Briggs realized with a pit forming in his stomach.

"Hey. Hey, kiddo. Open your eyes," he said, slapping his face a bit as Johnny got his jacket off and was pressing it on the bullet wound.

"Bus'll be here in five," came a voice somewhere to Briggs's left, but he wasn't paying any attention on anything but his protégé.

"C'mon, Levi. You gotta open your eyes."

As small slits formed and Mike's eyes were slowly being able to be seen, a small smile spread across Paul's face.

"That's it, Levi. Keep your eyes open."

Mike opened his mouth to say something, but coughed, blood splattering on his lips.

"That's not good," Johnny muttered, both of them knowing the bullet must have hit a lung.

"Don't try to talk, Mikey, okay? Keep your mouth shut and focus on your breathing, alright?"

Mike nodded a bit before his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Hey! No, no, no, no! Open your eyes, Mike! Mike! Open your eyes!" Briggs started shouting again and again.

"Sir, please, you have to move," a voice said, and Briggs was pulled away from his protégé by Johnny.

He realized the bus got here.

In a quick blur, Mike was loaded into the ambulance, and was whisked off. Paul and Johnny just standing in the wake.

"What do we do?" Johnny asked, pulling Briggs out of his trance.

"Can I leave this scene with you?" Briggs asked an agent. The agent quickly nodded in response.

"Hospital?" Johnny realized.

"Yeah. Hospital," Briggs replied, jumping into his vehicle, Johnny riding shotgun, and took off to the nearest hospital with some help from the passenger.

The second they got there, both Briggs and Johnny were out of the vehicle and in through the sliding front doors.

"I'm looking for Mike Warren, an FBI agent admitted not long ago," Briggs immediately said to the nurse at the front desk, flashing his badge, trying to get any information he could about his trainee.

The nurse quickly typed in the information before turning to the two agents, "I'm sorry, sir, it seem as through Agent Warren is still in surgery. Feel free to wait in the waiting room."

But it didn't sound like a friendly request. This nurse had obviously had her fair share of dealing with cops or agent that have gone into surgery and having their partners come in and flash their badge.

With a sigh, Briggs and Johnny sauntered into the waiting room, defeated looks on their faces. Then, Johnny's phone rang.

"Aw, no. I totally forgot," Johnny said, answering the phone.

Briggs was confused only until he heard Johnny say, "I know it's sauce night, but something came up."

There was a pause before Johnny replied, "Uh… it's…. um…."

Briggs silently held out his hand for the phone. Johnny passed it over, grateful for not having to say it aloud.

"Hey, Charlie," Briggs nearly whispered.

"Is everything okay? Johnny missing sauce night? That's never happened before."

"Charlie, it's Mike. He's been shot. We're at the hospital," he said bluntly.

"What! Why didn't you call sooner?" a deep breath was heard over the line, along with a few questioning voices before the voice of Charlie came back with, "Is he okay?"

"Don't know yet. He's still in surgery," Briggs said quietly.

"Alright, alright," Charlie said, gathering herself. "Where are you guys?"

"Hospital. The one south of town. You don't have to come, Charlie-"

"You think we're not coming when one of us is injured? Especially when we don't know how bad it is? We're on our way."

The line went dead.

"I'm assuming they're on their way, from the conversation I heard," Johnny said.

"Yeah, they're coming."

That was the last thing said between them as they waited. And waited. And waited. Glancing at the clock every few minutes. Thirty minutes in, a small group consisting of Jakes, Paige, and Charlie came rushing in, spotting their two comrades immediately and going over.

"So what happened?" Charlie asked.

"I wasn't paying attention," Briggs said, finally getting out what he had been thinking ever since he and Johnny left for the hospital.

"Briggs, man, this is not your fault," Johnny tried to back him up.

"Yes, it is. I wasn't paying attention. I had my back to the dealer. Rookie move. And the rookie saved me and took a bullet," he muttered.

"You couldn't have known he was going to do that. We didn't even think he had a gun="

"But you're always supposed to assume that they have one, so something like this doesn't happen."

"Hey. Stop pointing a finger at yourself. Mikey's a tough guy, he'll be fine," Charlie said, a slight waver in her voice the only thing giving her away that she was worried.

Nearly two hours later, a doctor approached the group.

"How is he?" everyone asked.

The doctor sighed.

"I'm cautiously optimistic, but I do believe Mike Warren will be fine. The first twenty-four hours will be the real test. After that, it's all but guaranteed."

Three weeks later, Mike walked down the stairs, a slight grimace all that gave away his pain.

"Levi, you shouldn't be out of bed," Briggs said from his spot on the couch, pretending to make an offhand comment, but paying close attention to any signs that Mike may be in pain or fall down.

"I've been in bed for weeks. I'm bored," Mike admitted. "Where is everyone?"

"Cases, I think," Briggs said.

"Speaking of cases," Mike started.

"You might as well stop there, Mikey. No cases for a while," Briggs said, knowing what Mike would say.

Mike groaned, and Paul couldn't help but smirk a little.


	2. Kidnapped

"He's here," a voice awoke Mike from his slumber.

"Bring him in," another, more authoritive voice cut through his muddled brain.

He heard a door open a ways in front of him and his wrists started to ache, reality coming back to him. Mike knew it wouldn't be long until his whole body was in burning pain.

"Paul! My old friend, I was surprised to get your call. I haven't heard from you in a while," the boss said, standing and inviting his colleague to come and join him.

"Well, I need some guns and I need them quick. You came to my mind," Briggs said, sauntering into the ancient warehouse, glancing around. He saw who he was looking for, Mike Warren had rope around his wrists and feet, being tied to a chair, and an old cloth shoved in his mouth and tied behind his head. His chin touched his chest, but he looked like he was starting to move.

 _At least he's alive_ , Briggs thought, tearing his eyes from his protégé in the back corner to the man holding him hostage. Once Briggs gave the signal, FBI agents would be barging in. Holding off calling for help until he was closer to Mike in case he needed to hold off the body guards standing around, Briggs walked forward and shook the gun dealer's hand.

"I see you brought the money," the dealer said, glancing down at the briefcase Briggs had in his hand.

"I did," Briggs replied, stealing another glance behind the dealer and his guards at Mike, who seemed to be moving slightly, then grimacing, then trying to move again.

 _Kid's getting nowhere and is gonna get himself hurt because of it._

"I need the guns fast. Have any on you now?"

"A few. Let me check."

The dealer turned and opened a box, glancing at his selection.

Taking the time to size up his protégé, Briggs saw rips in his shirt and jeans. Dried blood already caked onto his clothes and fresh crimson liquid seeping through. His face was almost all purple.

"Relax, my friend, he is no problem," the dealer told Briggs, noticing his staring at his captured man.

"No, I wasn't-"

"Relax. Come, I will show you."

The dealer walked to the cage his FBI agent was tied to a chair in and turned to see Paul slowly walking towards them.

Upon the noise in front of him, Mike brought his head up, glassy eyes seeing two men in front of him.

Briggs stared into his eyes until Mike finally seemed to focus on him. His face finally relaxing, realizing his friends were here. He was going to be fine.

"I think we're about wrapped up here," Briggs signaled the tact team now that he was near his protégé to protect him.

"You haven't even seen the guns yet," the dealer said.

"I don't have to," Briggs said as shout of "FBI! Freeze!" filled the air around them.

"You!" The gun dealer shouted, throwing a punch at Briggs.

Paul easily dodged it and threw his own punch, taking much enjoyment in the crunch under his fingers signaling a broken nose.

"That's for my friend," he snarled, snatching the keys to the cage and opening the door as the dealer and his guards were being arrested.

"Mike. Mike, hey, kiddo," Briggs smiled, seeing his protégé open his eyes when hearing his name. He quickly took the cloth out from his mouth.

"Alright, I'm going to untie you now, okay, Mike? You hear me?"

"Yeah. I hear you," Mike mumbled.

"Alright, good, good, stay with me now," Briggs said under his breath as he went behind Mike and untied his hands.

"Woah, there, Mikey," Briggs said, startled when his friend started falling forward, Briggs's hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him upright.

Shifting in front of Mike again, Briggs untied his feet and helped Mike onto his feet.

"You need to wait?" Briggs asked quietly as Mike leaned heavily onto Briggs.

"Le's jus' go," Mike mumbled, his arm slung loosely around Paul's shoulder.

Briggs made sure he had a good grip around Mike's waist before taking a step, then another, and another. Slowly dragging Mike to the ambulance.

"Hey! Mikey! You want pancakes?" Johnny asked.

"No," Mike said from the couch.

"Yes, he does," Charlie said from next to him.

Mike groaned, "Charlie."

"Mike, you will eat these pancakes and you will enjoy them, do you understand me?"

"I'd do what she says, Levi, you dot want to get on her bad side," Briggs said, coming down the stairs and hearing the squabble.

"Fine. I'll take the pancakes."


	3. Sick

Sorry it's not long, I find sick fics difficult. I'll write another one that's better later. Hope you like it, guys.

The coughs echoed down the hallway.

"Mikey, bro. That you?" Johnny asked, poking his head into the sick man's room.

"No, that was my imaginary friend," came the congested reply.

"Yeah, ha, ha. Just stay away from me with that cough. I don't need to be getting sick."

"I'll do my best," Mike mumbled, turning over in his bed, glad his day off had fallen on the day he was sick.

"Mike?" Charlie asked, creeping into his room and waking him up.

"Yeah, Charlie, what's up?" Mike muttered.

"Johnny told me you were sick. Didn't believe it, but..." She trailed off, frowning at the dry cough coming out of her friend.

She reached out, placing her hand on his forehead.

"Charlie, I'm fine."

"No, you're not, you're burning up, Mike. I'm going to get you some water. Stay there."

"Yeah, I was planning on moving," Mike grumbled after she left before a huge sneeze ripped itself from his mouth.

The next time he woke, his face was wet, his pillow damp, and his eyes heavy.

The wet cloth on his forehead cold and moist.

He managed to open them when he heard a sound to his right.

"Hey, Mikey-Mike. How're you feeling?" Briggs asked, not looking up from whatever was in his hands.

Mike groaned in response. "What are you doing here, Briggs?"

"Charlie put me on Mike Watch."

"Mike Watch?" Mike asked conspicuously.

"We've been rotating shifts since yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah, you've been out of it. One time you woke up and punched Johnny in his face. Didn't hurt him, except maybe his pride."

A knock at the door drew their attention.

"Hey, Mikey. Feeling better?" Charlie asked.

Mike sighed before quietly relenting, "Yeah. I feel better."


	4. Poisoned

Hey, guys. Thanks so much to those of you who comment! Someone said they wanted Mike to be poisoned, so, here you go. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

…

"Paul, might I have a word with you in private?" the dealer Briggs had just introduced Mike to said.

They had come in, introduced Mike, and had been sitting and talking to one another about the deal for the last thirty minutes. At one point, the dealer had some business and left for five minutes, but came back with fresh coffee for everyone, which his guard had passed out.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. What's up?" Briggs asked as soon as they were away from Mike's prying ears.

"What's up, is that there are Feds outside. And I know who brought them," the dealer said, staring straight into Briggs's eyes.

"Who?" Briggs asked, testing what the dealer knew.

"It's that buyer over there. Michael."

"Mike? No, I think you've got your information wrong, there," Briggs said, trying to salvage the op.

"I don't. I've had a bad feeling ever since he's arrived. But don't worry, Paul. No matter what happens to us, he will suffer. Soon. He will be in pain. Soon. He will not survive," the dealer whispered, an evil glint in his eye.

"Right," Briggs said, glancing back at his protégé to find him sipping his coffee, blissfully unaware of the danger he was in. Of the guards standing just a bit too close.

 _He's not going to make the deal with Mike. I've gotta call it before someone's hurt or a cover is blown_ , Briggs thought.

Without another word, the dealer walked back to his seat with Mike. Briggs, on the other hand, took longer. He pretended to scratch his ear to get the watch connected to the FBI closer to his face as he said, "That's it. I'm calling it. He's not going to make the deal but someone's about to get hurt."

Briggs walked back to his seat at the round table. Mike and the dealer across from each other and himself to the side inbetween them.

"Sir! They're coming," a guard said drawing the attention of the table.

Gunfire sounded from outside, making it easy to understand what was going on.

The next moment, the doors busted open, shouts from the FBI making themselves clear.

Briggs, like most of the agents, expected the dealer to fight being taken in, but when they came through the doors, the dealer shouted, "Put down your weapons men. They'll get what's coming to them."

The dealer and the dozen men he had were quickly ushered into the backs of police cars and taken away.

"That was weird," Mike voiced his worry to Briggs when the cars were out of sight.

"Yeah, it was," Briggs said, continuing to look at the place the squad car was.

….

The doors slammed shut behind the two men as they got into Briggs's jeep.

The engine roared to life and they took off down the roads to get back to Graceland.

"Man, I'm starving," Briggs said. "If anyone's late, I'm eating their food, too."

"You can have mine," Mike grumbled from his seat.

Briggs looked over, seeing his protégé with his head back against the seat, eyes squeezed tightly shut and his mouth in a tight line.

"Hey, Mikey. You okay, man?" Briggs asked, switching between looking at the road and looking at Mike.

A groan from obvious pain was all that came from Mike's side of the car.

"Seriously, Mike, talk to me, what's wrong?"

Briggs's eyes were immediately torn from the road to his friend when a loud gasp came from Mike's mouth. Mike was leaned forward, arms tightly around his stomach, and his head down, leaving no room for Paul to see his face.

That didn't stop his worry, though.

Briggs quickly pulled his jeep over, shutting off the engine and turning to Mike.

"C'mon, Mikey, talk to me," Briggs said as he placed his hands on either side of Mike's face, pulling it up to be level with his.

Even with just the moonlight to see, Briggs could easily tell that Mike was in a lot of pain.

"Okay. Hospital."

When there was no complain from Mike, Briggs grew more worried, the small pit in his stomach growing with each passing second.

Briggs quickly started the car and began driving to the hospital, which had to be on the other side of town, Briggs thought.

Every couple of seconds, coughs erupted from Mike, which is why, seven minutes later, when Briggs heard no coughing or groaning, his eyes darted over to his protégé.

Mike's head was on the seat, face upwards towards the sky, his eyes staring straight at the stars. And still staring. And still staring.

Briggs jerking the steering wheel to the side, bringing the jeep to a fast stop and turning to his friend. His hand instinctively went out to touch Mike's neck, searching for a pulse, praying for a pulse.

After a moment, Briggs let out the breath he was holding. The pulse was small and weak, but it was there.

Mike coughed a little bit more before closing his eyes.

"C'mon, Mike, open your eyes, kiddo."

But he didn't.

Briggs knew he had to make sure Mike kept a pulse, so he let his protégé's head fall onto his lap.

Briggs kept one hand on the kid's neck, checking for a pulse, and the other hand on the steering wheel, driving like a maniac through the streets, trying to get to the hospital.

Briggs quickly made a thirty minute trip in fifteen. His jeep's wheels squealed to a stop as Briggs shut off the engine, checking one more time for a pulse on Mike before jumping out of the jeep and into the hospital, shouting for help.

"Is he allergic to any medication?"

"No, I don't think so," Briggs replied uncertainty.

"Sir, you have to wait out here," a nurse said.

"No, I have to go with him. He's my partner," Briggs said, flashing his badge, hoping that would make a difference.

"Sir, we'll do everything we can, but you need to stay out here, sir, please," the nurse said, pushing Briggs back.

"No, I gotta-"

"Sir, you're wasting time that we can be helping him. Sir, go back into the waiting area. Someone will come get you after."

…

"Hey, sleeping beauty, how're you feeling?" Briggs asked, seeing Mike opening his eyes.

"Ugh. What happened?" he asked.

"Looks like the coffee the dealer we busted gave you was poisoned. Luckily you hung in there long enough to get the antidote," Briggs said.

"I feel like I've been asleep for days."

"You have been, Mikey," Briggs said quietly.

"Oh."

"Just glad you're awake now, Levi."


	5. Comfort

This takes place after Bello's attack on Mike in the prison.

The knock at the door cause Mike to look up from what he was reading.

"Hey, Mikey. How you feeling?" Briggs asked, slowly walking into Mike's room.

"Like I'm being stabbed again. What're you doing up?"

"I was headed to bed and saw your light on. Thought you'd be asleep by now."

"Waiting for the pain killers to kick in. Don't think I'd get much sleep otherwise," Mike told him.

Briggs sighed, "Yeah. That figures. Sleep up, Mikey, I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Mike said, returning his attention to his reading as Briggs left.

The door clicked a it closed, Briggs resting his head on the doorframe for a moment.

"Sorry, Mikey," Briggs whispered.

He lifted his head from the frame and walked to his room.


	6. Drowned

Paul Briggs's feet pounded against the wooden dock, loud thumps echoing in his ears.

He was leading a tact team toward the boat where an op went wrong.

 _"Whoa, whoa, calm down, man. Put away the gun, we can talk,"_ Mike's voice from earlier echoed, followed closely by a gunshot they could hear from where they were stationed.

The memory made Briggs legs go faster, somehow.

When they saw the boat, shouts were coming from the team behind him, a few tearing out of his own mouth as he raised his gun, but he never slowed his pace, because Mike was somewhere, on that boat, possibly shot an bleeding out.

Only one guy had a gun, he dropped it quickly when he saw the Feds.

Briggs was on the boat, searching for his protégé as the tact team slapped metal bracelets around the dealers' wrists.

"Where is he?" Briggs asked, pushing the man who had the gun against the wall, brandishing his gun openly.

"Where is he!" Briggs shouted.

"He fell in the water, he fell in the water!" the dealer said, pointing wildly at the end of the boat facing the ocean.

Briggs eyes widened, releasing the man, turning to face the small waves crashing against the side of the boat, causing it to rock slightly.

Going over to the edge, Briggs peered over, dropping his gun, badge, phone, and keys onto a nearby table before taking one last look at the men being taken away, hearing someone call an ambulance when hearing what the dealer had told Briggs, before taking a leap into the water.

Diving down, deeper and deeper until he found it hard to see, Briggs eventually found the bottom of the somewhat shallow water.

Briggs turned around in circles in the water, moving every now and then, searching for his protégé. Searching, looking, trying to find... Until...

Briggs saw a shape and swam towards it, his strokes fast and deliberate.

When he got there, Briggs noticed that the shape was moving, tugging at something.

Briggs put a hand on the shape's shoulder, the head jolting upward, wild, frantic eyes meeting his own.

Mike's wild and frantic eyes meeting his own.

Briggs gestured at the two of them, then pointed upward, toward the surface, telling Mike that they need to go up.

Mike shook his head quickly, pointing with both hands at his left leg.

Briggs looked down, noticing for the first time that Mike's left leg was jammed I between two chunks of metal, the rest of his limbs floating above.

Briggs wasn't sure how that happened, but he realized Mike couldn't get his leg out of the trap.

Planting both feet on the ground, Briggs grasped the bottom of his leg before pulling with everything he could muster.

He continued pulling, readjusting, and pulling again over and over and over until he felt hands on his shoulders, pushing him back.

Briggs backed off, his lungs almost out of air by now, when he saw how Mike was barely hanging on, his pain obvious and not helping him keep the oxygen in his lungs any.

Briggs tried to think quickly, his oxygen running out quickly when Mike pointed at him, then upwards.

Briggs shook his head, refusing to leave, but Mike nodded, and Briggs's lungs were burning in pain, wanting, needing air, to suck in a breath.

Briggs pushed off the ground, going quickly to the surface, taking a few deep breaths, yelling at the people on the boat to get a crowbar.

After thirty seconds, too long in his opinion, a crowbar was tossed to Briggs and he immediately dived under.

When he got to the bottom, he put his hand on Mike's shoulder, expecting another reaction... But there was none.

His head didn't move, his hand didn't twitch, nothing.

With the hand not holding the crowbar, Briggs lifted Mike's head and let it go like it was on fire immediately.

Wide eyes met his own. Empty eyes met his own. His protégé's eyes met his own, even though his friend didn't live there anymore.

Briggs forced himself to take the crowbar, placing it in between the metal pieces.

He he pushed downward, the metal moving slowly apart until Briggs could finally let the bar go and grab onto his friend before pushing off the ground and swimming himself and Mike towards surface.

Taking a big gulp of air and trying to keep Mike above water, his weightlessness a little unnerving, the first thing Briggs noticed was that the paramedics had arrived.

He pushed Mike as far up out of the water as he could, letting the men on the boat pull his friend up before helping him up.

When he got his feet under him on the boat, he saw a sight that was sure to haunt him.

Mike's blank eyes staring lifelessly at the sky, his body's only movements coming from the paramedics attempt to bring him back.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," the man said, pushing down on Mike's chest before the female paramedic breathed two breaths into his mouth, his chest rising and falling mechanically. Wrongly.

This continued for what felt like eternity. Paul hung on every word that was counted, every breath breathed into his friend. His feet stuck to the ground beneath him.

He waited until, finally, horribly beautiful coughs erupted from Mike before e was quickly turned onto his side as the water was expelled from his lungs.

"Watch yourself, Mike," a concerned voice came when the front door opened.

"Charlie, I'm fine, I could have driven home myself."

"Not while were around, Mikey. Well be here to take care of you," she replied softly.


	7. Fire

Thank you for all the reviews! You are truly my inspiration to keep writing whatever I write. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while! My bad.

Here's a note to all you guys, I will be writing any requests you have and then the book's last chapter that I've been working on.

If you have any requests, let me know. Once I post the final chapter that I've been working on, I'm think of working on another fandom for a while, but I'll be back later to write an a-z of hurt Mike, so look out for that.

...

They heard the sirens before they left Graceland.

They saw the smoke before they got there.

They saw people running out, heard screaming, the firefighters spraying water over the bar, trying to put out the raging fire.

"What's going on?" Briggs asked a man standing nearby.

"Place caught on fire not ten minutes ago. No ones going inside because of how hot it is, but some people are still coming out."

"Briggs, you don't think," Johnny started, looking around at the people gathered along with the rest of the gang from Graceland.

Well, the rest of the gang minus Mike.

"Thanks," Briggs mumbled to the man as he walked away, everyone following him.

"Charlie, call Mike."

Charlie's phone was already in her hand, everyone waiting anxiously, glancing around in search of their friend.

"He's not answering," Charlie reported.

A woman ran out of the smoke an rubble that used to be a doorframe, coughing, and running straight to a group of firefighters near the agents.

"Th-They're t-trap-ped!" the woman shouted at the firefighters I between her coughs.

"What happened?" a firefighter said, fighting to be heard over the sounds around them.

"A man. A man was helping people out. And the roof collapsed. And there's still a few people trapped," the woman said in near hysterics, her arms flying around wildly.

Charlie and Paul made eye contact.

"The man that was helping people... You don't think it was..." Charlie trailed, looking at the high flames.

"Mike," Paul sighed.

"What are we going to do? They're not going in yet! What if he's dead by the time they get to where Mike's trapped?" Paige asked.

Briggs glanced back and forth, taking in his options before saying, "Alright, I have an idea. Johnny, cause a distraction."

Briggs jogged away from the group before Johnny started shouting and trying to get by the firefighters.

With the distraction in place, Briggs shoved his face into his shirt and ran into the front of the bar.

The heat hit him immediately, the sizzling wood around him making it hard to see through the smoke.

"Mike?" He shouted.

"Mike! MIKE!"

"Briggs?" a shout returned.

"Mike! Where are you?"

"Over here! We're in the back!" Mike shouted with a few other voices mixing in with his.

Briggs shuffled through the fires and falling wood while making his way to the back of the bar.

"Mike?"

"Here!"

Briggs located the voices behind a door, but a large beam had fallen and was blocking it from opening.

"Okay, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"There's a beam in the way. I'm gonna have to move it before I can open the door. Hang on!"

"Yeah!"

Briggs looked around before seeing rags still on the bar and behind it.

With the rags coated in water and in his hands, Briggs quickly grabbed the beam and pulled, making it land on the ground.

He kicked it a few times, getting it out of the way before yelling a warning and kicking open the door, seeing Mike and three others.

"Come on! Hurry!" Briggs shouted.

They all ran to the exit, the two agents taking up the rear of the group, all of them coughing.

When they pierced the outside, running and taking huge breaths, like it could be their last.

...

"When you said you had a plan, you could have said you meant running into a burning building!" Charlie glared at Paul.

Mike smirked, Charlie catching it before turning on him.

"And, you, mister. What were you thinking? When there's a fire, you get out. You both could have been really hurt!"

...

"Hey, man, I never said thanks," Mike said.

"Nah, it's no big deal," Briggs said.

"It is. Thank you for saving my life, Briggs."


	8. Death

Hey, y'all! So, this is my last installment. I know, sad. I'll be writing more in another fanfic later, maybe an a-z because that sounds like fun, but for now... Well, I hope you enjoy. Thank you to everyone for all your support. Your reviews truly, and I mean this, were my only motivation. I put the first story up and your reviews kept me going. You guys are why I do this.

Anyway, I'm babbling now, sorry about that. Just, enjoy. And look for my next fic later!

...

 _It's your fault_ , his conscious said in his head.

 _No, I can't think like that. Get yourself together, Briggs._

The leader opened his tired eyes and trained them on the pale figure in the bed. The constant beeping was annoying, yet reassuring. He wanted it turned off, but it was also the only thing keeping his hope up. But he shouldn't hope. Not much time left...

"I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm so sorry," Paul whispered to empty ears.

The quiet room was too loud. Paul Briggs sat alone on plastic chair, next to the bed of his protégé, who was officially pronounced... No, he couldn't think of it. It hurt too much. And the fact that it was his fault made it worse. So much worse.

"Why do you always have to try and be the hero, Mike?" He asked louder, trying to get an answer from... Someone. He doesn't know. Maybe a higher power? Maybe a miracle would happen and Mike himself would answer.

The door quietly clicked open, a nurse looked at him with pity and sorrow.

"Sir, are you ready? Your friends are waiting," she said.

The rest of the team were outside. They'd already had their moment with Mikey. Had he already been in here for five minutes? It didn't feel that long. Or maybe it felt longer. Paul wasn't sure anymore.

He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Especially not his judgement. Especially not his ability.

"Sir," the nurse said, trying to get his attention.

He tried to take deep breath and failed miserably. His promise to himself about keeping his emotions in check went out the window.

"I'll give you a few more minutes," he heard the nurse say before the door clicked shut.

And then he broke down. Paul had tears dropping everywhere. They were on his hands, his jeans, his face, the ground, the bed, and Mike himself.

He latched onto Mike's hand, a desperate act for a desperate man.

"I'm so sorry, Mikey. This was all my fault. This should be me. And I know that. And I guess you were right... I've got to be brave. Like you. Time to take my own advice," his hoarse voice said.

Looking at the slack face of his friend, of his _brother_ , he couldn't help but think back to last week.

...

"Hey, Mikey-Mike. I got a fresh case. Simple enough for a rookie, but it's dangerous," Briggs said, sauntering into the room and handing Mike a file.

Mike snorted, "When is anything we do _not_ dangerous."

"Man's got a point, Briggs," Johnny shouted from the next room.

"Mind your own business, Johnny!" He shouted back.

...

"It was too dangerous. It was too much. Even for me, Mikey. I should've known. I shouldn't have let you. I should've done my job. God knows you did yours."

...

"What's wrong, Mike? You've got a look on your face," Briggs said, watching as the techs hooked up a wire to his chest.

Mike shook his head, "Just a bad feeling. I'm sure it's nothing."

Briggs slapped a hand into his protégé's shoulder, "Relax, Mikey, you've got this. We'll be right here the whole time. I'll be right here. Once you get started you'll get some courage and you'll be fine. Just be brave."

Mike chucked, "Yeah, I've got this."

...

"You need to know, Mikey, that you are the bravest person... The bravest person that I have ever met. I can only try to be as brave as you were. That you still are, wherever... Wherever you are."

...

"You think you can play _me_?" The dealer shouted, his voice echoing on the speakers in the room full of FBI agents.

"Sir, should we move in?" An agent asked.

"Not yet," Briggs said, "Give him time. Let him get himself out of it."

...

"When I heard him shout, I gave you more time. Trying to fix it. But his reputation... I should've known... I should've known, Mike. That was my first mistake."

...

The gunshot echoed and Briggs felt like it had hit him instead.

His breathing stopped.

Then it started again as he ran, his gun drawn, toward the warehouse, the few agents with him running behind him.

...

"If I'd been faster, or even slower, it wouldn't have happened. I know that... I know it."

...

Just as Briggs and the agents got to the warehouse, an SUV burst out, the doors flying wildly and skidding on the ground.

The car sped away, but Briggs was focused on the fallen figure on the ground in the middle of the warehouse, blood circling his figure.

...

"I was so scared right then. You wormed your way in, Mikey."

...

"Mike!" Briggs shouted. He ran to the fallen figure, dropping to his knees, gun going on the ground, hands on the gunshot wound in the leg.

When he pressed down, Mike struggled, fighting unconsciousness.

...

"I wish you'd stayed unconscious, Mike."

...

"Hey, Mikey, guess that feeling was right?" Briggs said, trying to get him talking.

A forced chuckle was forced out of his mouth, before he winced.

"Where's the guy?" Mike asked, surprisingly aware.

"Took off in an SUV. Couldn't have gotten that far."

"Let's go get 'im, then," Mike said, sitting up.

"Woah, Mike. Relax."

"C'mon, Briggs. Gotta be brave. Take your own advice sometimes."

...

"Why were you always so persuasive sometimes? Mike, sometimes you made me forget my own judgement. I should've listened to it. Hindsight always comes back to bite me..."

...

"No. Stay here. I'll go after him," Briggs said, something nagging at him, but he chose to ignore it.

He picked himself up, off of the dusty, dirt-covered floor, and ran to a vehicle, starting it and chasing after the dealer who shot his friend.

...

"I should've known you. Mikey. Sometimes, you just wouldn't listen. The more that's out against you, the more you push back until you prove, time and again, that you can do anything."

...

Briggs caught up to the dealer and his driver easily.

They played cat and mouse, Briggs always a step behind, before dog some in.

During the chase, Briggs noticed a car following him, quite unsteadily.

He realized it was Mike.

"Warren," he cursed, glaring in the mirror at his protégé.

That was his mistake. He took his eyes off the road, and the car in front noticed, taking advantage by running him into a storage unit.

The airbags went off. White filled his vision.

He fought his way out of the car, just in time to hear skidding of tires. Just in time to look up and see Mike's car braking, and the dealer's car colliding with his.

...

"I've never heard a sound more awful. Knowing you were in there made it worse."

...

The crunching, the screeching, someone was screaming.

After a moment he realized he was screaming. One word. A continuous "MIKE!" left his mouth.

His legs unfroze.

He ran to Mike's car, pulling on the door handle.

The door screeched in protest, but opened all the same.

Inside, Mike's head was on the steering wheel. His injured leg off to the side and his uninjured one near the pedals. His hands were tangled in the steering wheel.

Blood was... It was everywhere. The coppery stench filling his nose, but he grabbed Mike by the shoulders, holding him securely, and pulled him out of the smoking car.

He set him on the ground.

Paul tried to wake him up.

...

"I tried. I tried everything. I didn't know why you weren't waking up. Now... Now I understand."

...

Paul tried to slap his face. He tried to put pressure on his numerous injuries. He tried to talk to him. Heck, he was begging by the time the medics got there.

...

"They wouldn't let me ride with you. I had to drive there, to the hospital, by myself. My mind made it worse. It made everything worse. And I had to call the team. I told them to meet me there. That I'd explain there. I couldn't talk to them anymore. Because it meant that it was real. That you were really in the ambulance, unresponsive, on the way to the hospital."

...

The whole team was waiting for what felt like forever.

Paul was the first up when the doctor came over.

He felt confident. Because this was Agent Mike Warren. His trainee. His protégé. His roommate. His teammate. His friend. And, he realized, his brother.

He felt confident. Until the doctor spoke.

...

"You were in a coma. Hit on the head. It was too hard. He said... He said you might never wake up."

Briggs took a deep breath.

"Yesterday they declared you brain dead," he said. But it felt so wrong. This was Mikey. This was the overthinking, top-of-his-class FBI agent. He couldn't be brain dead.

"And now... They're gonna pull the plug. It's for you. So you're not trapped. You can move on. You can continue. You don't have to stay tied down. And you'll get what you deserve, Mikey. You deserve everything. All your goals. You'll never get to reach them in this life... But maybe in the next."

Paul chucked. It was dark and devoid of emotion.

"I guess you'll get to see if the pearly gates are real or not first."

...

Paul Briggs broke down in that room with no one watching. He didn't cry again until four days after that.

He didn't cry when the machines were turned off.

He didn't cry when the doctors declared Mike Warren dead.

He held himself together as Charlie broke down the next day.

He stayed put together at the funeral, where he met Mike's parents.

He didn't shed a tear when the team got together and toasted to his life.

No, Paul Briggs cried four days later, when the chore wheel switched, an it was Mike's turn to do the dishes.

Paul volunteered. He watched as everyone went to bed. He watched as his hands mechanically went over the dishes with soap and water.

It was when he turned and glanced at the chore wheel.

He froze, eyes glued on today's date.

It seemed unrealistic. That today was this day.

It was then that Paul Briggs dropped the plate he was holding, it's shattered pieces littering the floor.

He fell to his knees, tearing streaming down his face.

The others must have heard him.

They were surrounding him. They took him to the living room. Someone brought beer from the fridge.

Questioning glances were sent his way, along with a few knowing ones.

All Paul Briggs did was grab a beer, pop off the top, hold it into the air, and say, "Happy birthday, Mikey."


End file.
